


Figuring Out

by TheStoryOf14



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 8,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStoryOf14/pseuds/TheStoryOf14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is only 9, but she knows that she is different. How could she not know it, when people in her class tell her everyday? What is that makes her special, she doesn't know exactly. Slowly she starts to discover her talent, and everything she is apart from that. Hermione age 9-?, collection of one-shots that belong together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bushy

*Age 9*

"Bushy!"

I sighed.

It was her. Again.  
I really wished she would find someone else to pick on.  
Someone else who had ugly hair, big teeth, liked weird things, and who all the strange things would happen to, instead of me.

I mean, I didn't really hope she would find someone else to pick on. I just hoped she would stop picking on me.  
And I didn't think she would do that unless she did have someone else to pick on.

Mum says she's just jealous of me.  
But I really can't see why.  
She's got nice straight hair, she's got lots of pretty cloths, everybody likes her, she's always got good marks.  
I get better marks than her.  
But that's only because I study so much.  
It's like that is the only way to get back at her.  
I haven't got anything to call her. She isn't ugly, or strange, or weird.  
She's a perfect little girl.  
I heard Miss Briggs say that once.  
But I get better marks.  
She'll never be the first of our class, I won't let her.  
If I have to study every day instead of read or play, I will do that.  
Because it's the only way I can get back at her. I'll never be pretty, or normal. I'll never have small teeth, or like the things everybody likes.

Daddy says she'll get wiser when she grows up, and that I shouldn't listen to her, because she isn't right, and she doesn't really know what she's saying.  
But when is she going to grow up?  
Because right now it hurts when she calls me all those things, and I can't not listen to her, I just can't.  
I try to, I really do, but everything she says is true.  
I do have ugly hair, not nice and straight, like her. Or long and curly, like Chloë.  
I do have big teeth, and even if daddy says it's just now, that it'll change, that doesn't make them less big.  
I do like weird things, like reading old books, and listening to old '50s rock, and watching the sky, without really doing anything.  
And strange things do always happen to me. Like yesterday, when no one wanted to be my partner for tennis. And then suddenly I hit every ball just out of their reach. Or last year, when my hair was cut shorter, so it was even bigger than normal, and suddenly it just became longer again. Or when I was 5, and I had a little hole in my tooth, and when mummy drilled it, the hole was just gone.

I guess I'll never be like her, like them. And I really don't like it. Because that means that for the rest of primary school, she'll pick on me.  
And then we'll go to highschool, and she'll still be in my class, because it's the same school as our primary school, and there'll be other people, and she'll get them to do the same.  
And then it'll be all these people I don't even really know picking on me, for something I can't even help.

I'm close to our classroom, it's almost time for the first lesson.

"Bushy!"

And I walk on.


	2. Nerd

*age 9*

"Nerd!"

"I know"

And then she was silent.  
Because I'd just agreed with her.

Me.

I'd just agreed with her.

About being a nerd.  
About the thing she said. Knowing, hoping, thinking it would hurt me.  
And I'd agreed with her.

I could see her thinking.  
Wondering why I had agreed.  
Thinking that maybe there was another meaning to it.  
Searching for something else to call me.  
Second-guessing her choice to call me that. The part where she called me that, as well as the part where she called me that.

It wasn't the first time she'd called me that.  
It wouldn't be the last time she called me that.  
It was, however, the first time I'd answered.

Not yelled. Not cried. Not told her not to say that. Not gotten angry at her. Not pushed her. Not yelled something back at her. Not like that.

I just answered. Affirmative.

And I shocked her.  
And I wondered when I started agreeing with her.  
Or at least: when I started to agree with her that I was a nerd.  
Or just didn't even care about being one.  
Or figured that was a positive – or at least not negative – thing.

When I got all A's and she all C's?  
When I got to read all I wanted and she studied? And flirted? And gossiped?  
When I fixed math problems and watched everybody else struggle on them and felt just a little bit proud of myself?  
When I figured that, in the long run, I'd be better off than them because I'd worked for what I wanted?

Perhaps.

But I certainly didn't care anymore.

Or not that much anymore.

"Nerd!"

"I know"

But it stung.


	3. Freak

*age 10*

"Freak!"

I looked down at the cup I had just knocked over.  
The cup that, only seconds ago, lay on the ground in a hundred little pieces.  
The cup that I was now, somehow, holding in one piece, not so much as a crack to be seen.

I looked back to the boy, standing in front of me, looking slightly angry, slightly scared, and slightly – I couldn't find another word for it – triumphant.  
The boy who had just called me that name – not that this was the first time he'd called me that. And he wasn't the first person who called me that either.  
The boy was now moving towards the door, ready to tell, yell, all his friends what I'd done this time.

It wasn't the first time something like this happened.  
In fact, strange things always seemed to be happening whenever I was around.

One time, my diary fell out of my backpack. A girl grabbed it and started to read it, probably looking for something else to mock me with. But all she could see was what I'd eaten and done during those days. I didn't know whether to be happy that she couldn't read what was really in there, or scared of the reason that she couldn't read it.

Another time, when I was little, my mum said I would have to wear braces later, but somehow my teeth straightened up within 2 months after she said that.

And one time, when I was nine, some girls in my class hid my clothes during gym. But when I came back they just lay there again on a neat pile. And their faces, when they walked into the changing room, were just hilarious.  
When they did it again the next week, I never found my clothes again, and I had to ask the headmistress to call my mum for new clothes.

And most times, people just forgot about it.  
Or said it was just a coincidence.

But I couldn't help but wonder:

what if it wasn't just a coincidence?  
what if it really was me?  
what if I really was a –

"Freak!"

He said it again, more taunting this time, something vicious in his eyes by now.

"Freak!"

For a moment I saw red.  
And then there was the same red on his cheeck and he was crying.


	4. Well Done

*age 10*

"Well done"

I stared at the sheet of paper in front of me.  
First in every subject.  
Straight A's.  
Everything I'd worked for.

Then why didn't it feel any better?  
Getting the reward, the praise?  
Why did I feel as if I'd failed something?

They said I was smart, did excellent, was well on my way, …  
But all the other kids just thought I was stupid, because I liked to learn, I loved to read, and I said so.  
So I learned more, because I had nothing else to do.

The worried look in my mum's eyes would be gone tonight.  
Worried, because I didn't have any friends.  
Worried, because I never invited anyone to play.  
Worried, because no one ever invited me.

That look would be gone tonight.  
Pride would replace it.

But for one night only.  
Because tomorrow I would be reading all day.  
And she would wonder why nobody asked me over.  
Why I always seemed to be alone.

And next year I would sit alone again.  
Get straight A's again.  
Be the best at everything again.  
And mum would have that look in her eyes again.  
And suggest I change schools again.  
And ask me to put away my book again.  
And tell me to take initiative again.

And all the while there would be that look in her eyes.

"Well done"

Or not.


	5. Go Away

*age 11*

"Go away!"

The words seemed to echo in my head.  
Over  
And over  
And over again

She wanted me to go away.  
After almost a year of being my friend, my only friend, she wanted me to go away.  
Just like that.  
Go away.

And never talk to her again.  
Never look at her again.  
Never again do anything that implied that we were, or even ever had been, friends.

I really didn't know why I was surprised.

After all, this wasn't the first time that happened.  
Not the first time someone decided being my friend wasn't a smart thing to do.  
Not the first time someone had it made clear to them it was a stupid thing to do.  
Not the first time someone decided being my friend was obviously the fastest lane towards Freakville.

Not the first time.  
Probably not the last time either.

One more year.  
One more year and I would ask mum to go to a different school.  
Everyone here would go to the same one.  
And I was supposed to do so too.  
I thought I would do so too.

But maybe running away really wasn't so stupid.  
Maybe it really would turn out to be the smart thing to do.  
Maybe it really would let me start over.  
Maybe it really would give me a chance to make some friends.  
Maybe they would even stay my friends, for a change.

I didn't know.

I'd just gotten sick and tired of being told to leave people alone.  
Of being the reason my friends got picked on too.  
Of being the one with a disease, unpopularity, one that anyone could catch very easily.  
Of being the one everybody looked at when anything, anything whatsoever, went wrong. Because there was no other option than it being me. There was no other possible outcome.  
Of being the one even teachers started to mistrust.  
Of being called the teacher's pet, and knowing that, in reality, they didn't like me any more than any of the other students did.  
Of being asked to leave her alone.  
Of being told to go away

"Go away!"

So away I went.


	6. Witch

*age 11*

"Witch"

I stared at the woman, trying to see if she, somehow, was trying to trick me.  
But she seemed so serious, stern even, that I didn't know whether or not to believe that to be possible.  
I wondered if I should ask her again what she meant, if she could repeat that, if…  
But somewhere deep down inside of me, it was as if something clicked, felt right, and sighed in relief.

My parents were looking just as doubtful as I was, gobsmacked even.  
But I saw a light beginning to glow in my mother's eyes, a smile beginning to form on her face.  
And I knew that she was thinking of everything that had ever happened, every weird thing that occured when I was around, whenever I was around.  
And I saw her look from dad, to the woman, to me, back to the woman, to my dad, back to the woman, then to me.

I noticed how my dad was looking utterly confused, almost afraid to know what exactly was going on.

Afraid of what that word really meant, of what that concept meant for his daughter.  
Afraid of what this would mean for the brilliant future she was set out to have.  
And afraid of what would change, concerning – everything really.

I looked at the woman, who had a peculiar expression on her face, almost as if she had seen this scene one to many times already.  
I tried to form words, a coherent sentence, but I all could think was: could this be? Could this really, truly be true?  
I remembered every book I had read, almost all of them about something magic or magical.  
I started to hope that maybe, just maybe, this truly was real, this really was true.  
I started to think that maybe this was my chance to start over.  
I started to wish that this was all that: a chance to start over, an explanation for everything strange about me, maybe even another life where I wasn't just 'know-it-all Hermione', …

'Witch'

'I am, aren't I?'


	7. Gryffindor

*year 1 - age 11*

"Gryffindor!"

I watched as the boy started smiling.

I'd read about this  
The house of the brave, of those with plenty of courage and a right amount of rule-breaking tendencies.  
And now I'd be one of them.  
And apparently so would he.

I remembered him and his friend from the train.  
They'd seemed nice.  
Him more quiet than his friend, his friend just a tinge more… Irrational than him.  
But nice none the less.

Most people here did.

That boy with the white hair, I'd heard him being nasty at the redhead, actually was rather polite when he spoke to me.  
When I told him who my parents were, he suddenly left though, but oh well…  
Those two bulldozers who, apparently, went everywhere he went, didn't seem a bit nice though...  
Nor did they seem to have anything filling their heads…

It was the redhead's turn now.

I saw three more boys with the same red hair and freckles sitting at the table where I sat, looking a bit nervous.  
Almost as if they were waiting to jump up at the least sound, at the very first word, whether that be good or bad, glad or angry, proud or upset.  
I noticed the redhead had seen their expressions too – he now looked positively terrified.  
They probably were family, and obviously very eager to have him in the same house as they all were.

The boy frowned, and then looked utterly relieved.  
And indeed, mere seconds later:

"Gryffindor!"

A new home.


	8. It's Your Birthday?

*year 1 - age 12*

"It's your birthday?"

She was surprised, probably, that she could possibly not know that.  
After all, she knew just about everything about just about everyone.  
But it had only been two weeks into the schoolyear.  
And nobody could ever accuse me of talking too much.

In class, yes, there I was always present, very much so even – after all: if teachers remembered you, they knew who they were giving what points to.  
But as to the rest?  
I had to admit it: nothing much had changed for me.

I still didn't really have any friends.  
I still studied more than 'I ought to', as my mum often said.  
And I was pretty sure that at least one teacher liked me less, rather than more, because I always knew all the answers.

The lessons were fun, and interesting.  
And I truly had ended up in a whole new world, one I never even would have dreamed to encounter only 2 months ago.  
And yet, so much seemed to have remained the same.

I had remained the same – and apparently people in general just didn't really seem to like me.

At least I hadn't been picked on – yet.  
But it had only been two weeks indeed, that might still come.  
So far people just sort of ignored me. And that worked for me as well as for them.

Only Neville, the boy I had met on the train, occasionally talked to me, usually to ask for help or explanation.  
But even he didn't know it was my birthday today.

I was grateful for the school's owls, because they allowed to write to my parents at least.  
And this evening, mum had returned my letter with a present, a box filled with cupcakes, to celebrate my birthday.  
I didn't really have anyone to share them with, and I certainly didn't feel like creating a fuss over something as stupid as my birthday.  
Although I had to admit it would have been nice if anyone had congratulated me.

Suddenly I'd felt really homesick.

So when Neville asked for some help with his transfiguration essay, I offered him one.  
And when he heard it was my birthday and congratulated me – he even offered me some chocolate frogs as a present – she heard it.  
And was very much surprised indeed that anyone could not want to have a huge party for such an occasion.

I told her I didn't really feel like it, so she just gave me a funny look.  
One that clearly stated: she's always alone, and then skips on an opportunity to make friends?

But that was exactly why I didn't want to make a fuss about it.  
Because those people would just eat my cupcakes, be nice tonight, and whisper behind my back again tomorrow.

She clearly thought otherwise.

As I wished Neville goodnight and went upstairs, I could feel her gaze locked on my back.  
Still thinking what a strange person I was, probably, or wondering why I acted like that.

Why I wasn't happy, gleeful, excited, why I was just as quiet as always, especially when –

"It's your birthday?"


	9. Nobody Likes Her

* year 1 - age 12*

"Nobody likes her"

I'd been walking behind the two boys ever since class finished, and I'd heard everything they'd been saying about me.  
And I was right, the one with the black hair, the one who was famous but didn't seem to like his fame, was nicer than the redhead.  
Well actually - the redhead just seemed to think that his mouth always had to be busy, either by talking or by eating...  
Even some of the gossipers in my dorm weren't as outspoken with their opinion about most other people.

But what he said now, it was just mean.  
And I missed home.  
And I knew it was right.  
Nobody did like me...

So I ran of crying.

I heard him ask if I'd heard everything, but all I could think was that I had to get out of there, as soon as possible.  
Before anyone noticed I was crying, more stuff to gossip about.  
Before anyone noticed I was homesick, more stuff to laugh about.  
Until somebody noticed I wasn't in my classes, more stuff to be shocked about.

I wanted to go home.  
More than in all the weeks before.  
I had to, wanted to, needed to go home.

Perhaps my old life wasn't as bad  
-nobody liked me there either, but at least I had my parents to talk to then.

Even Neville didn't count - he usually was alone, but he seemed to like it that way.  
And the girls in my dorm seemed to think I was as weird as people in my old school think.  
Only - I wasn't supposed to fit in there, I was different, weird there.  
I was meant to belong here, it was supposed to be better here.

But somehow it was still the same.  
Somehow I was still -

"Nobody likes her"


	10. Mudblood

*year 2 - age 13*

"Mudblood"

I heard the whole Gryffindor team gasp.  
I heard the whole Slytherin team laugh.  
I heard Colin's camera clicking in the distance.  
I heard Ron yell something at him.  
I heard more people, probably those who had been on the tribunes until then, run towards us.  
And all along I heard that word over and over and over again, like a non-stop echo that refused to just let me forget it.

"Mudblood"

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, a voice was reading a dictionary out loud:  
' "Mudblood": Someone who has dirty blood, unpure blood. Someone who has magic but comes from a muggle background. Generally seen by pureblood wizards and witches as inferior to said pureblood wizards and witches.'

"Mudblood"

A part of me registered the insult, another part registered the responses all those people around me had, but I couldn't really react.  
Something in me turned mute, turned deaf, something in me froze, attempting to grasp what just had happened, attempting to grasp the concept of what had just been yelled at me.

And all along I heard that word echo in my head.  
Yelling at me, mocking me, telling me I didn't belong, I wasn't to belong in this world where I truly felt at home, where I thought I fit in.

Some part of me registered the irony of how the place I came from didn't want me because of where I belonged, and apparently some of the people in the world where I belonged didn't want me because of the place I came from.

As messed up as that sounded, it sort of made sense.  
That, and I was suddenly reminded of the history lessons I'd had on the Second World War.  
This sounded a bit too familiar, too similar to that to be just a coincidence.

I had half a mind to go look it up in the library when I heard Ron yell something.

I heard the whole Gryffindor team gasp.  
I heard the whole Slytherin laugh.  
I heard Colin's camera clicking in the distance.  
I heard the people from the tribunes talk.  
And over and over again I heard that word.

"Mudblood"


	11. Why?

*year 2 - age 13*

"Why?"

I really didn't have time for this.  
But then again, she didn't know that.  
She didn't know what it was that was roaming the halls.  
So she couldn't possibly know why I would need a mirror.

But I did need a mirror.  
I didn't feel like being petrified.  
But then again: it beat dying.  
I really, really didn't feel like dying.

She wouldn't believe me though.  
Why should she?  
It wasn't as if she knew or trusted me.

Perhaps I should've brought a mirror myself.  
I didn't really think I owned one, but oh well...

While I was struggling on what to tell her, she apparently had come to a decision of her own.  
From one of the pockets in her robes she took a small mirror.

I knew that what I was about to do wouldn't remove her doubts about my sanity, but since she probably already thought I was crazy...

Slowly I reached out, and held the mirror in just the right angle so that I would be able to see anybody, anything in the corridor.

When I knew I'd be able to see everything, I realised I should probably watch first - after all: I was the one who knew (even if that only was sort-of) what to expect.

Just as I turned to tell the girl this, I noticed a change in her eyes as something resembling fear appeared.

I followed the direction in which she was looking and glanced at the mirror.

The reflection of a pair of yellowish eyes stared back at me.

As everything went black, the only thought I could grasp seemed to echo the girl's earlier question:

"Why?"


	12. Crookshanks

*year 3 - age 14*

"Crookshanks!"

How dare he?  
Just go yelling around about how my cat did this?

That rat of his was ancient! And sick!

And yes, I did feel sorry for him, I really did, but did he honestly expect me to keep Crookshanks in my dorm all day?  
He needed his freedom too, you know.

And besides, it wasn't even really sure that Scabbers was dead - there was no body!  
Let alone the fact that, if it turned out that he was dead, there was no proof that Crookshanks was the one to kill him!  
For all we knew he might as well have died all on his own...

I could see that Ron was about to re-introduce me to the famous Weasley-temper; his ears were starting to turn an alarming shade of red and his hair actually seemed to be on fire.  
But at that moment, I really didn't care.

It wasn't as if this was the first time Scabbers disappeared.  
And Crookshanks wasn't the only cat in Gryffindor - he wasn't even the only cat in my dorm!

So what right did Ron have to just go and accuse my cat?  
And what right did he have to go off at me for that?  
And why did het get to be furious over something that he wasn't even sure had happened?

Especially when he actually reprimanded me for throwing Scabbers out of our dorm when I found him there knibbling on my favorite pair of jeans?  
They were ruined - but Ron still told me that it was just in his nature... As if!

It was in Crookshanks nature to eat mice and rats, and now that suddenly wasn't good enough of a reason anymore?  
This was just so typical!

It was almost as if he did it just to get on my nerves!

And I knew he would just go on and on about it, and he would force Harry to pick a side, and it just wasn't fair!

It wasn't as if I could've stopped it from happening, you know?

And besides, rats weren't even allowed at Hogwarts!

In the end I just walked away.  
He wouldn't stop yelling at me.  
And I had to find-

"Crookshanks"


	13. Guilty

*year 3 - age 14*

"Guilty"

NO!

They couldn't do this!  
How could they do that?

They didn't even listen to all of our arguments!  
And those arguments would've gotten him free, I was sure of it!

Weren't they supposed to be fair and impartial?  
Instead of bringing that promoted butcher here right away?

It was almost as if they already knew what the outcome would be, no matter what the defence - and the defence was good!  
I'd spent hours looking up all the info on hippogriffs, I'd gone through numerous law books, researching every detail I could find.  
If they would have heard Hagrid out, there would've been no way they would have been able to get away with excecuting him.  
Or, well, at least not legally.

I hated this!

I hated that some spoiled brat like Malfoy could just get to decide on the life or death of such a beautiful creature, just because his daddy was rich.

I hated that the law system, the very thing that was supposed to prevent such a thing from happening, not only allowed it, but gladly went along with it - perhaps even was sponsored by/because of it.

I hated that a minister - the person who was supposed to be a good example for his ministry - was so corrupt, biased or simply blind that he would practically promote such behaviour.  
Well, at least he still got the 'example' part right.  
Just a shame that he was anything but a good one...

I hated that nobody even seemed to mind that such a thing happened, or that they simply were too used to it to even try to change it anymore.

But most of all, I hated that there wasn't a thing I could do about it.  
There weren't any law books left to search for some possibility to make it right, there were no more documents that I could look into.

I had already done all of that stuff.

And it didn't help a thing.

They would just go on like they were used to, too stuck and set in their ways to even think about changing.

So they'd just execute him, a creature which, compared to them, wasn't even half as

"Guilty"


	14. Just Ask HIm

*year 4 - age 15*

"Just ask him"

They made it sound so simple.

But how, how was I supposed to do that?  
How was I supposed to go over to him and just ask him something like that?

What if he said no?  
What if he said yes?  
What if he thought we were going as just friends?  
What if het thought I wanted to go as more than just friends and he didn't feel that way about me?  
What if -

And why couldn't he just ask me himself?  
We'd been friends for over three years, so surely he would've realized by now that I existed, right?  
And he didn't have any problems asking a girl out, after all: he'd already asked at least one to go with him.

That might not have gone all too well, but, well, he really should've known that she'd probably would say no.  
Given who she was, and the fact that half the male population of both Hogwarts and Durmstrang was drooling all over her.  
So, really, what did he expect?

Then again, he didn't really seem to have been planning on asking her.

But still: if he could ask her, why couldn't he ask me?  
Why didn't he ask me?  
Did he really not want to go with me so badly?

And then there was that other thing.  
That other guy- no, man.

He had half the female population of Hogwarts and Beauxbattons drooling over him.  
And yet he'd asked me to go to the ball with him.  
And he'd even done so in private, and he'd brought me flowers.  
And I really did like him, but...

I just wish he'd have asked me to go with him.

I wasn't even sure if he would ever ask me.  
Nor if I would ever be able to gather the courage to ask him.

And did I really want to be the back-up, the girl he took to a ball, just because no one else would say yes?

I honestly didn't know anymore.

I was just sick of being something like a third boy in our group, the one who would always be there as 'just a friend'.

So I'd say yes, I decided.

And no.  
I would not

"Just ask him"


	15. He's Back

*year 4 - age 15*

"He's back"

And then my whole world changed.

What had, until then, been nothing but an unpleasant memory of the entire wizarding world, was now suddenly turning into an actual, all-to-real threat.

Even though for me it wasn't such a distant memory (Harry had fought him in our first ànd second year after all), it was still a threat I hadn't actually encountered yet.  
And I had been hoping to keep it that way.

The names I had been called from time to time during the last four years, had always been just that: names.  
But now they had become something like a mark, setting me apart from my friends.  
Showing to the whole world that I was one of those most likely to be-

But no.  
I wasn't to think like that.  
After all, we would have time to prepare, we would fight, we would-

But how - and why - did he come back? Why now?

And what would his return mean exactly?  
For Hogwarts?  
For my friends?  
For my parents?  
For me?

Would this really, truly be the end of our 'normal life'? (if you could even call our lifes up to now normal)

I realized I knew close to nothing about what had happened the last time.  
I had no idea how bad things might get, or how many people we might loose.  
I didn't know how frightened I should be, because I didn't know anything else either.  
And that in itself frightened me too.

I promised myself I would look into it.  
But not until I got home.  
Not until I'd had a chance to enjoy my last days here.  
Not until I had walked all these corridors, stairs and hallways once more.  
Not until I had looked around the great hall and seen the people mourning Cedric Diggory.  
Not until I had watched the two other schools leave, wondering if we would ever see any of them again.  
Not until I had really, really taken in Hogwarts before the war that I knew would come.

The war that would probably change everything.  
The war that we would have to fight in, because it was our future that was at stake.  
The war that would determine for many of us whether or not we had a future.

So I looked around, I saw the people, I read the books, and I knew:

"He's back"


	16. Change For Changes Sake Only

*year 5 - age 16*

"Change for change's sake only"

This.  
Was.  
Not.  
Good.

The ministry meddling in Hogwarts' affairs?  
After a whole summer of nothing but slaunder on both Harry and Dumbledore?  
Oh, this was NOT good.

And if he was right, that she used to be - or was she still? - Fudge's undersecretary...  
Well, we were bound to be in for a real treat...

But how?  
How did they manage to get that old hag the teaching position?  
What good did they think it would do?

I couldn't help myself from wondering what kind of a teacher she would be -  
but if I had to take it from the manual she assigned us...  
It was all theory.  
Not even a mention of wand movements, pronunciation, ...  
And I highly doubted that her lessons would be any different...

And besides, some of the theories and concepts in that book sounded...  
Well, just plain old highly unlikely - to say the least...

To start: it was printed in the 1920's - and I couldn't find anything about re-editing it since then.  
But even compared to other defense books that were printed then, it seemed to be highly out-dated.  
And I knew for a fact that the way they explained charms used as defensive spells, would lead no one to anything but a sure way to make that buffalo-mistake professor Flitwick warned us for in our first year...

Really!  
What were they trying to get from this?  
Just keep us all completely vulnerable, with no means to protect ourselves, or stand up for what we belie-

Oh.

That was it, wasn't it?  
The minister thought we would stand up for what we believed in.  
And if we did that, he feared that it wouldn't be for his sake, but to defend -

Oh.

Wow.

I didn't know whether to feel sorry for the minister for being so desillusional, or just mad that he would let his fear to loose everything that made him worth something (in short: his title as minister) come in the way of giving us a chance to defend ourselves.

After all, even if He-Who-Must- oh fine, Voldemort, hadn't come back, there were still other people out there who wouldn't be afraid to harm others to get richer, more powerfull, more...

What were we supposed to do against them?  
Start preaching that defence against the dark arts was only to be used theoretically?  
Yes, that would do us a whole lot of good...

And the woman was still talking.  
Harry was right, she did look a bit like a toad.  
And she just kept on talking...

"Change for change's sake only"


	17. How do you feel?

*year 5 - age 16*

"How do you feel?"

I'd just woken up.  
And I didn't have the faintest clue as to how I felt.

How I felt about 'meeting' those... Those sadists.  
How I felt about (apparently) coming close to dying.  
How I felt about having faced something that Harry had met multiple times - and having been unable to really face it.  
How I felt about knowing that, most likely, in a couple of months, maybe a year if I got really lucky, I would have to face that, them again.  
How I felt about having nightmares for months to follow.  
How I felt about being afraid of my own shadow.  
How I felt about being so terrified that I couldn't think, couldn't see, couldn't breath anymore.  
How I felt about...  
How I felt.

And I wanted to snap at them, ask them how they think I felt?  
How they would feel if they'd just gone through that?  
But they had.  
And they seemed to be just fine.

And it just wouldn't do to tell them that I was mad at myself.  
For not being able to cope with that.  
For not being able to keep a clear head.  
For not being able to remain calm.  
For not being able to get over the fact that I, the 'brightest witch of our age', got outshined by people who were younger than me, didn't get the same grades as me.  
For not being able to remember what I already told Harry in our first year: that there truly àre greater, more important things than bookwisdom.  
For allowing myself to forget that.  
For not being able to help them more.  
For being mad at myself for being mad at them because of that.  
For feeling so utterly helpless.

And I was happy that we'd all survived.  
And that we all were okay.  
That we...

Just not that I had turned out to be the weak link.

But I'd work on that.  
I'd study even more.  
And I'd be there for them.  
And next time, and there wasn't a doubt in my mind that there would be a next time, I'd be there, and I'd be able to help them.

But now, right now, I would just be happy that we'd survived.  
I would worry about all the rest later.  
Right now, I just wanted to talk to my friends.  
And be happy that I could.


	18. Hermione

*year 6 - age 17*

"Hermione"

At first, I thought I'd misunderstood.  
That I just wanted him to say my name so badly that, on some bizarre level, I made myself believe he had actually said it.  
But then I saw Lavender's reaction.  
And I knew that it really was really true.  
He'd said my name.

And I knew that he was probably just dreaming, or some random thought that popped in to his feverish mind.  
But still.  
He 'd just said my name.  
Not the name of his girlfriend.  
Not the name of some hidden crush.  
But mine.

And I knew that it wasn't something to be happy about.  
He was poisoned, for crying out loud, and he may have just ruined his first ever relationship.  
But still.

He'd said my name.

And suddenly, I didn't mind him snogging her all over the castle anymore.  
And I didn't really care that he'd ditched me for the christmas party anymore.  
And I was over him going out with someone that wasn't me.

Or.  
Well.  
Almost over that last one.

But still.  
I wouldn't hold it against him anymore.  
I thought.

Because he would be alive for me to do so.  
And that on itself.  
Well...  
That was enough for me right now.

Oh, we would probably still have a fight over something silly every other day.  
And we'd most likely never see eye to eye when it came to how much, and when, and how he should or would or could study.

But he would be alive for all those things to occur.

And I'd just almost lost him.

So I really, truly, couldn't think of anything better to happen right now.

I was actually looking forward to fighting with him again?

It must really be love.

Wait -  
Love?

Well...  
I guess it really was...

After all: he hàd just said -

"Hermione"


	19. HORCRUXES?!

*year 6 - age 17*

"HORCRUXES?"

As in, more than one?  
OH.  
DAMN.

The good times really just kept on coming, didn't they?

First, there was this random megalomaniac chasing my best friend.  
Then, we had the whole 'for one can not live while the other survives'.  
And now the guy apparently was as good as immortal and -

And he had an unknown number of pieces of his soul sailing about?

Could we  
SERIOUSLY  
Never  
Get  
A  
BREAK?

I mean - I loved Harry, I really did, and he was like the brother I never had and all, but -

The boy had THE worst luck ever.

And it's not that I minded going with him, because, well, I'd never really known it any different.  
And he didn't ask for it.  
And he really was the best friend I could ever have wished for.  
And he was funny, and loyal, and he knew how to get Ron to listen to him.  
And there actually was some sort of hidden charm to it, never having to worry about life getting dull or too boring.

But I felt sort of sorry for him.

He'd already lost everything.  
And somehow, everytime he gained a parent, some sort of family, he seemed to just lose them again -  
And he always found a way to blame himself for that.

And then he found out why.  
And to have a prophecy, the most fickle, twistable, multi-interpretable thing of all reasons to have something bad happen to you, to have that be the reason for all of it...

But this went one large step beyond the 'usual madness' of something like a prophecy.

This sounded, well, just vile.  
And he had no choice but to go for them, because it was the only possible way for him to have a chance at survival.  
And no matter how slim that chance might turn out to be, he had to grasp it.

And we would be there, Ron and I, just like every other time.

We would try to be there, we would try to help him, we would try to help him survive.

And that was a scary thought - terrifying even, but we would be there.  
Because he deserved his friends with him.  
Because he deserved every chance he could get to live.  
Because he needed a break every once in a while.

But really - he had some rotten luck.

And still:

"HORCRUXES?"


	20. They're On Their Way

*On the road - age 17*

"They're on their way"

And then there was chaos  
And then there was noise  
And then everybody was everywhere and no one was to be found  
And then there was panick

And I was trying to find Harry and Ron  
And I was clutching to my purse, trying not to lose it  
And I was praying I hadn't forgotten something  
And I thought it would never end, never be better, never be quiet again

And people were confused  
And people were running  
And people were screaming  
And people were dissapearing  
And people were all around  
And people were trying to find their friends, there family, there coats, there way

And I saw one of Fleur's nieces fall  
And I saw Luna grab her father's hand  
And I saw Victor apparating  
And I saw Fred looking for George  
And I saw Charlie guiding people to the end of the non-apparating zone  
And I saw Molly on the verge of tears

And I heard Mr Weasley calling Protego  
And I heard Bill asking over and over again 'why'  
And I heard aunt Muriel laugh  
And I heard Ginny shout 'Good luck!'

And I wondered how she knew  
And I wondered why it had to be now  
And I wondered if the newly-weds would survive their wedding day  
And I wondered if everybody would get out in time

And then there were cracks  
And then I saw men appear out of nowhere  
And then there were curses flying all over  
And then I found Ron and Harry  
And then I grabbed their hands

And as we dissaparated I hoped everybody would be okay  
And as we dissaparated I hoped we would get to see all of them again  
And as we dissaparated I hoped we would survive this search  
And as we dissaparated I hoped it would all be worth it

And then we landed and we were walking and I wondered how and why and when and if and-

"They're on their way"


	21. My Name

*On the road - age 18*

"My name"

I was beyond -  
I didn't even know beyond what I was.

All I knew was that I hated him for leaving, but I couldn't help but love him for coming back.  
Either way - he shouldn't have left in the first place.  
And I would let him know that.

Even if it only was out of principle.

Even if I wanted to melt into his arms the moment he said that he came back thanks to us mentioning his name.

Even if that meant that he did care.

He still shouldn't have left.

He shouldn't have put us through all this.  
Shouldn't have walked out on us because of a too-long-held-grudge - over something that neither Harry nor me could help.  
Shouldn't have taken it out on us like that.  
Shouldn't have made me, us, miss him so much.  
Shouldn't have made us go through those months like that.  
Shouldn't have let his stomach, his jealousy, the horcrux rule him like that.

And yet I couldn't help but feel happy, safe, somehow feel myself relax, now that he was back.  
It was the three of us again.

I'd always hated it when there were fights in our group.  
We worked best when we were together.  
I'd always known that.  
We knew eachothers flaws, and we loved eachother despite them.

Despite Harry's inability to not deal with every kind of danger ever invented.  
Despite Ron's inability to see that he was better than his brothers in so many ways.  
Despite my inability to believe in things that I had not seen myself.

We worked best when we worked together.

But that didn't change the fact that I was still mad at him.  
Because of what he said  
Because of how he left...  
Because of how hard he made it to be mad at him...


	22. I Remember You!

*On the road again - age 18*

"I remember you!"

They remembered?

They actually remembered!

They remembered me, there daughter!

And I knew that that probably meant that I hadn't performed the spell correctly, or that I hadn't made it powerful enough, but I honestly couldn't make myself care.

They remembered me...

I would get to tell my parents, the 2 people who'd known me since before I was a witch, who'd loved me long before I went to Hogwarts, who had always been there for me, who'd never let me down, they remembered me.

And at that moment I was happier than I was when Ron came back, happier than when Voldemort died, happier than when Ron asked me out - finally - after all the funerals were done with, happier dan when I went to the Burrow and saw George laugh for the first time since Fred, ...

And I would get to tell them, about what had happened, really happened.  
About how ever since my first year I'd had the greatest friends a girl could ever wish for.  
About how I helped fight for what I believed in, how I helped make a wrong become undone.  
About how scared I'd been, how much I'd wished they were there to help throughout the years.  
About how I'd survived it all, had fallen in love with my best friend, and had gained a brother in my other best friend.

And most of all: I would get to be their little girl once more, there only daughter, the person they would do anything for.  
I would be taken care of again, instead of taking care of others, my friends, my world.

Or at least, I would do all that as soon as I explained why they were in the middle of Australia all of a sudden, and hadn't seen me for over a year...  
Oh well...

They remembered me - and that was enough...


	23. Graduation Speech

*seventh year - age 19*

"We did it.  
We managed.  
We survived school - and we can actually say that it might have been the other way.  
For some of us, that other way came very close.  
We all came too close to that point.  
But we survived.  
We stuck together, learned our courses, cursed the loads of homework, made friends, fell in love, gained a new family, fell out of love, learned some more, fought for our world, trusted each other, fell in love again.  
And we survived.  
But some of us didn't.  
Some of us lost family, friends, loved ones, husbands, wifes, children, parents, ...  
We won't ever forget them.  
We can't.  
Because what they died for, what they were willing to sacrifies themselves for, that is the world we are heading towards now.  
It's the opportunity to choose your own path, regardless of who your parents or friends are.  
It's the opportunity to say no to what you think is wrong, and be heard.  
It's the opportunity to laugh, and cry, and listen, and talk, and never have to worry about who might hear it and what they might do with that information.  
It's the chance to be ourselves, to invent ourselves, to re-invent ourselves.  
And we gained that chance, that opportunity, that world, because of their sacrifies.  
And that might be a bit bittersweet, for a lot of us it even seems beyond hurtfull.  
It might even seem as if it wasn't worth it.  
But they thought it was.  
They thought that our futures, their futures, were worth dying for.  
That they actually had to do so for us to reach that goal, is horrible.  
But it also gives us duty, the duty to live in that future, make that world stand proud again.  
It gives us the determination to go out there, make a change, and never let there sacrifice be forgotten.  
Because that is the only way their sacrifies will be worth it: if we make it worthwile."


End file.
